Requiem for a Hero
by Inrandel
Summary: Read the First Chapter
1. Author's Note

This entire is going to be one big authors note, while I try to fit into place all of my rather loosely organized ideas.

While I watch all of these shows, I started to wonder why it is that everyone is sometime obvious to the goings on of those around them, particularly in the Dragon Ball series of shows. I mean, gigantic battles that must break every local Richter Scale in town and no one cares to notice. No one ever proclaims any surprise at the apparent God-like strength of some of the main characters.

What's up with that?

I'm not sure when this present idea fell into place. Probably when I was thinking what would happen if the Z Fighters somehow existed in _ this_ reality. Probably wide-spread panic for a bit then we'd settle into the routine of invasion, death, resurrection at some later point. I then combined this idea with an episode of _Justice League_ I saw where a few of the Leaguers got transported to an alternate universe which, oddly enough, was sending sub-conscious memories to a comic writer. What if those T.V. shows were just sub-conscious memories of parallel universes?

I also want to give credit to the book _Childhoods End_ from which I got some ideas about how to fit everything in, as well as the show _Yu-Yu Hakusho_ for ideas. After I get done with the framework of the story, I think you'll see just how intricate a web I have woven.

I have to stop there, because after that I start delving into too much of the plot, and why things are, but I can say this. As I developed the reluctant hero of Inrandel Strongblade, a forgotten saiyan boy transported from the soon-to-be-gone planet of Vegeta for the safety of the entire _multi_-verse, I decided that I simply needed more shows to amalgamate into my little scenario to provide some half-way decent storylines. To put it simply, let me say that those other universes have to run smoothly, and intervention on one side must be met on the other.

I plan on having each chapter be a separate adventure, so to speak, such as, "Inrandel and the such-and-such", so there may arise a dichotomy in the lengths of chapters, and I apologize. I also would like to test my character development skills by having our intrepid hero, Inrandel, be changed over time. He'll start off cautious and unsure of himself, move into being a cocky bastard, and end off being the confident superhero we all adore.

This work is rated R for a few reasons. First, the language. Second, the violence. Third, the sexuality. This is not for my own pleasures, rather, I think it only fair to explore _all_ of the aspects of the life of this super-hero to be, rather than focusing solely on the punching part.

At the beginning and the end of each chapter will be Authors Notes with commentary and explanations, respectively.

Before I forget. I do not own _Dungeons and Dragons_, _ Dragon Ball _(_Z_, _GT_, or otherwise), _G Gundam_, _Charmed_, _Angel_, _Diablo 2.5_, _Justice League_, _X-Men_, or _Lord of the Rings_. As well, I may easily bastardize any number of points about the shows within my ensuing tale. Please try not to focus on the other stories, but on the story I am presenting.

So, without further ado, I give you, Requiem for a Hero.


	2. Prologue

I'm sure you watch the news, read history books, and pay attention, you must, I mean, there's always so much happening. I've died a few times myself, you know, I was brought back by the Eternal Dragon once, a resurrection spell - closely followed by a restoration spell, those clerics of Lathandar are such nice people - a few times, and that's about all I can recall for now.

But anyway, back to the world. It's quite amazing, really, all of the things that happen, the movers, the shakers. As far as I can tell, we're up to several extraterrestrial beings, a trio of witches, a few vampires, slayers thereof, magic practitioners - divine, arcane, and otherwise - , and I believe that our government is drawing up plans for fighting robots. Wait? You never heard of some of these things, have you? I'm sure you all know about the disastrous things that happen to our planet on a regular basis, dying and being brought back through machinations you are unaware of. Do you really think it just happens? Or that some idiot who named himself after a Greek myth really saved us all? Infact, where did this Greek myth come from?

Everyday we take for granted the security of our homes, our countries, our planet, without first considering where these come from. Who really keeps us safe at night? During the day? I honestly can't blame you all for not knowing. I can barely believe that they let _me_ of all people remember this story, but I suppose they do grant some favours. The Powers are nice people if you get to know them. That, however, is besides the point.

I'll stop talking now, I suppose, before I anger some of you. I don't mean to be rude or anything, just sometimes I get a bit in a huff when I see people blindly accepting all they have. Besides, I have to get going with this, I don't anticipate having much time in which to finish this work anymore, and by necessity I must ask my dear wife to finish the last chapter for me. She's such a sweet girl.

Damn, I've side tracked again. I'll start now.


	3. A Hero is Born

Author's Note: This first chapter is going to be very dry. The next one, when we start seeing some actual dialogue and things get explained, will be much better. I apologize for the need for this chapter but some things just have to be done. Anything in italics is Inrandel's thought.

As I'm sure you know, high school can be a real bitch. Sure it's fun, but man! Peer pressure, drugs, ideal images, not to mention a load of work. Place that on top of having glasses, being overweight, being eccentric, and being awkward in social situations, and you spell disaster.

Of course, none of this really bothered our hero much. He didn't much care for what anyone else said, and this probably saved him quite a bit of torment. Infact, his frank nature (and a certain skill in the martial arts) elevated him above the common nerd into a sort of middle ground.

I should probably mention his name. Kevin. It's an uninspiring name to say the least, especially since his last name was Johnson. What good could this person be, you might ask, in saving the universe a few dozen times? Well, nothing in his current state I must admit. But his current state would soon change.

Kevin was born on the 14th day of the 2nd month in the 86th year of the 20th century. For all of you who can't follow, February 14th, 1986. It was, indeed, on February 14th of 2003 that this adventure started. On that day he awoke early, which was rather odd to begin with, and couldn't go back to sleep, no matter how hard he tried. Kevin glanced at his clock, 4:45. What the hell?

After a good 15 minutes of repeated failures, Kevin finally gave into the inevitable and got up. Walking over to his dresser he pulled out the nearest clothes and walked into the bathroom, the daily cleansing to commence.

Afterwards he ate some breakfast and tried to watch T.V.. Kevin couldn't seem to shake a feeling of anxiousness that was pervading his entire morning, or a feeling of almost boundless energy. Even trying to catch his pet greyhound in the backyard for an hour didn't calm him down one bit, though it did give him a voracious appetite.

After eating a second breakfast, Kevin opted out of waking his father up to drive him to school and instead decided to walk. Walking was replaced, however, by running in very short order. A 30 minute walk turned into a 5 minute run, with a 30 lb pack on Kevin's back. By the time he reached the school he hadn't even broken a sweat, he was early, and really energetic.

Unfortunately, schools don't provide an egress for anything other than mental energy. While this did provide a good side-track for Kevin, it didn't help is pre-occupation, especially the several free periods he had. He couldn't quite explain it, but on some deep level he felt different. As if things weren't bad enough, he was getting a bad pain in the small of his back he couldn't seem to get rid of.

5th hour brought lunch, or rather, several lunches. The teen couldn't remember ever being so hungry, especially after sitting in school all day. 8th hour brought on Phys. Ed., an unusually welcome egress for Kevin's growing outpour of energy. The usual five minute warm-up jog wasn't long enough, and the odd stares he was getting from the assembled mass of people used to watching him trot along didn't aide him much either. The sport of the day was basketball, and surprisingly Kevin didn't seem to get winded by the repetitive trips to either side of the court. Perhaps more surprisingly, an attempted long-shot by Kevin had enough velocity to not only reach the other side of the court, but rebound with a righteous force off the backboard and collide into an unfortunate freshman five feet in front of Kevin.

None of this would have overly worried Kevin any if he hadn't noticed a rather startling fact when getting changed back into regular clothes after gym. His pants, which that morning had had a comfortable fit, could would not slip straight off if it weren't for the belt that was now almost too large.

Only one more period to go. It was a lab period that day. He had never been particularly lucky with lab equipment. Unfortunately, not even today's events could change that. Picking up a glass pipette, Kevin accidentally lifted way too fast. The plunger went backwards over his head, coming down almost right behind him. In one hand the pipette, in the other a beaker of catalase. Kevin swung about in an attempt to do _something_ about the plunger, and much to the surprise of everyone involved, found his foot extended out with the plunger resting in the crease of his sneaker.

Weird.

It didn't end there. Finally being able to leave school for a well-deserved Friday, Kevin was met by a friend of his, Jim, coming towards him on the sidewalk of the school, while walking towards the street and home. Putting up his hand for a high-five, Kevin delivered. Unfortunately, what he had intended as a high-five ended up having enough force to knock Jim squarely on his back.

"Damnit man! What the hell was that for Dogg?" Jim attempted to get up but laid back down again. Carefully, Kevin reached a hand down and pulled him back up, careful not to exert any more power than need be.

"I'm sorry bro, I don't know what's happening with me today. I'm really sorry man, you alright? I can help you to the nurse or something?"

"Nah, it's cool. I'll let it go this time, since it's your birthday and all. Peace out, K-Dogg!"

Kevin, bewildered, walked off towards the street. The last act in the drama of the day was about to begin. As he approached the cross-walk he watched as kids went across, and the crossing guard chatted amiably with the students as they walked by her. He also noticed the black truck not heeding the red-light and the traffic guard, and the girl that was about to be hit. He still isn't sure exactly why he did so, but he started to run out to the girl, trying to knock her out of the way, or something. Whatever the reason was, he knew he had to do something.

Much to the shock of everyone involved, Kevin crossed that street faster than many cars can drive.

"Are you --- alright?" Kevin was panting, the car had screamed by and then stopped short, everyone was staring at him. It was at that point that he realized he wasn't seeing clearly, it was as if this cascading green light had pervaded his vision, and his entire body felt as if it was being ripped apart by pain, such incredible pain. The girl was running away, people were screaming, he didn't care, all he did was cry out with all the pain and anguish of a body being torn apart on the inside. Windows cracked and his fits were breaking things. He tried to move but only catapulted himself into a wall, he swung his fist around and sent a bench into orbit, he then started racing straight into the sky, then sideways, in a twisted dance above Main Street.

But through out this entire experience, one sensation would always remain with him. The pain in the small of his back was the worst. He could feel his skin ripping and something happening, almost like he was conscious of a new extension of his body.

***

He was not the only observer. In a place far removed from Time and Space, a being in glimmering armour with bright, ethereal blue wings, a hooded face, and a flaming sword sheathed at his side watched the same orb as a council of Powers that sat in a great hall.

"I apologize, my Lords, my did not expect his awakening this soon." The Angel's deep voice resounded across the chamber. While reverent, it spoke of great power and demanded deep respect.

"We do not blame you, Tyrael, things have happened which even we could not foresee." The assembled council spoke with one voice, one purpose, and seemed to make the voice of Tyrael seem as a child's. "You shall go to him now, and make sure that his metamorphosis is not interrupted."

"Very well."

***

The pain in Kevin's body had not yet gone away when a new one came into being. He felt as though he was being torn into countless pieces and then being reassembled. He would later be told that it was not normally this painful, but the added stress of his body changing had put a great strain on Tyrael's ability to cross them.

"Inrandel!", a deep voice rang out, "Submit yourself! Do not fight it! It will tear you apart!" Tyrael tried to approach Kevin, but was only repelled by a shimmering green wall of force. Later, Inrandel would learn that his subconscious had protected the bubble as a means of protection. It would be useful later on.

Drawing his sword, Tyrael struck at the shield. He knew that for only so long would he be more powerful than the writhing boy he had brought to this place of non-existence. He had to reach him, had to help him fight the metamorphosis. Tyrael knew only too well what would happen if Inrandel destroyed himself, he would take the universe with him.

Tyrael, fought back, tried a different approach. Murmuring holy words of power, he again lifted his sword. A single point of light struck off its tip and spread through the plane, dissolving Inrandel's bubble. He raced to the troubled boy and laid his hands on his back.

***

The next thing Kevin remembered was a white light. He was lying facedown on a bed. His first instinct was to go back to sleep, but with a shock as if from lightning reality came screaming back to him. As far as he could see, he was dressed in a white tunic with loose, white pants. He tried to roll over and several things happened. He first came into the realization that there was a _thing_ attached to his back which wouldn't let him roll over. Almost immediately after this sensation was the sensation of being catapulted out of the bed and into the adjoining wall. Further attempts to stabilize himself merely resulted in him floating several feet above the ground and his giving up on ever regaining muscle control.

Kevin was scared, very, very scared. The night before he had gone to bed looking forward to a Friday afternoon of relaxation, followed by winter break. Now he had been ripped from his own reality and brought here, to what end he knew not.

He felt someone approaching and attempted to stiffen up. Other than hurting himself, he achieved little. A door appeared out of nowhere and Tyrael stepped through, wings folded in a little.

"You will come with me. Do not try to walk, you will be guided for now."

Kevin felt himself become righted, and then pushed as if by some invisible forth along a long corridor which culminated in two, high, gold doors.

"You have been granted a most rare honour. You will receive an audience with the Powers Eternal That Are. They each represent a verse in this repetition. At times there have only been one, at times many. Never quite as many as this, I'm afraid, but that's why you were brought here I suppose. My own powers are not quite enough anymore. If not for certain instabilities, I would be replaced."

Kevin attempted to speak but found he could not move a muscle in his body. Infact, he wasn't even aware of his own heartbeat anymore, or his own breathing.

"Do not be alarmed. It is for your own good. Until you can come to terms with your new self, you're more a danger than anything else. We cannot have you bursting your own heart."

Great. Kevin really disliked this idea.

They approached the two doors, and they opened swiftly, yet silently, revealing a grand chamber composed seemingly of nothing but soft, white light. Before Kevin sitting on a high dais set as a semi-circle, sat countless beings. They were all different in some way, but they all shared the same basic features. Humanoid bodies coloured blue with gold streaks and gold hair. In the middle sat one, larger than the rest, and more prominent, seemingly without any oddities. Had Kevin been more alert, he would have noticed beings winking into and out of existence at either end of the semi-circle.

Thousands of voices invaded Kevin's mind at once, speaking in unison.

"We are the Powers Eternal That Are. We have ruled this multiverse in one form or another for infinity. Each one of us represents our own verse." Only one voice remained now. "I represent your verse. You are the original, the base, the only. For eons of repetitions our verse was the only one. However, entropy cannot be avoided for ever. I'm sure by now you've heard of what humans called the Big Bang and the Big Crunch. They are not very far off. There have been countless multiverses. Unfortunately, each Big Bang is less stable than the last. For eons the number of parallel verses has been steadily increasing, each new one more unstable than the last. We need the energy to bring them back together. You know that the only way one thing can gain energy is if another loses it. We must find that source! Your mission is imperative! You must find this source of power.

"But your mission will not be that simple. The chaos that spawned our numbers has spawned an evil being. He has many agents, and will seek to stop you and bring discord to the many verses. You see, when you find that source of power, you will bring all the verses together, and they must be intact. You will face many enemies, Inrandel Strongblade."

My name, is Kevin.

The voices returned in unison again.

"Of course, Warrior. It is time that we told you of your history. By all rights, you should be dead. You are not from the first verse, where your Earth is located, but from one spawned from the Chaos. You are certainly familiar with the third verse? Yes, of course. You were born on the planet Vegeta to two saiyan parents. You were removed from your mother's womb after 24 weeks. Your mother, Alira, and father, Halnos, both died when Frieza destroyed Vegeta. Your family were Lords under the King. With your father's death, you became the Prince of a large province, the province of Albadra. You were placed in the care of two foster parents, the ones you live with now, who's natural child had died moments before in the womb.

"You were preserved because you are the Chosen One. You alone have the power to bring the Chaos to an end. You alone can wage the war that is about to be brought upon all life in the multiverse. You cannot fail.

"We here have been given a great opportunity. All of the good things that come about because of the Chaos can be integrated into the Stability. We can create a new repetition. You have the power to create something incredibly good!"

Only one voice remained this time.

"And you must not fail."

There's no place like home! There's no place like home! There's no place like home!

"Tyrael will be your link to us. You will receive your assignments from him."

Inrandel's vision faded, and he felt himself become sleepy, so sleepy.

Author's Note: For all of you who are wondering what just happened, I'll explain. Kevin turns into a saiyan in this chapter and a brief overview of his past is revealed to him. You may be wondering what the green light is, that's his power-up so to speak. Recall glowy stuff around saiyans and everyone else when they were powering up? Same stuff. Later I'll say that it is, indeed, escaped energy from the effects of powering up, such as energy can escape in the form of heat during chemical reactions.

The reason he was thrashing about all the time is because he is in a new, very strong, body. The rest of the Z-Fighters gradually rose in power, so they had time to get used to the minor changes. Inrandel doesn't have this advantage, so his movements are naturally going to be jerky. Imagine going from a Sedan all of your life to driving a Gundam, same deal.

The rest is stuff I'll leave to your own speculations…


	4. Answers

Author's Note: This chapter is mainly for the purpose of answering questions the reader might have, and showing a glimpse of my ability to weave things together...

Inrandel awoke the next morning face down in a comfortable bed. _It was just a dream. Thank God_. He went to turn his head and to look at the clock but found he couldn't move. From what he could see, the walls where an odd gray colour. He wasn't in Kansas (or Long Island) anymore.

"Oh my, he's awake."

"Good work, Mr. Popo. I'll let Tyrael know."

Had Inrandel any control of his body, he would have been bolt upright at hearing those voices. He had to be going insane. Mr. Popo? Wasn't he from that show Dragon Ball or something? And hadn't he played a game with a Tyrael? What in the Nine Hells was happening? And why couldn't he move?!

A familiar voice resounded around him. "Awake, Warrior, your training begins today." Inrandel felt his body being lifted. He spun around and beheld Mr. Popo himself. He was not alone, Dendei was beaming back at him, staff in hand, and Tyrael was floating in the door, apparently controlling Inrandel's motion.

"It's truly an honour to have you here, sir. Everyone is very anxious to meet you."

Screw you.

"I understand your frustration, Inrandel, you will be able to ask any questions you like, and to move around, when we have entered the Hyperbolic Time Chamber." Tyrael was making his usual bad attempt at easing Inrandel.

Shit!

Inrandel looked about as much he could. It was the Observation Tower, exactly as he had seen it in those shows. This was much creepier than he needed anything to be, ever. He rounded a corner floating behind Tyrael and found a gaggle of people waiting for him. He was perhaps the most shocked he had ever been (which, might I add, was quite an accomplishment) when he saw _who_ those people were. Goku, Vegeta, Krillian, Trunks, Piccolo, Goten, Gohan, and an entire mess of people whom he had watched on T.V. there, apparently for _him_.

"Hey, I look forward to training with you!" Goku was waiving energetically in Inrandel's direction. This caused Inrandel to once again, critically re-examine everything that was happening so far. He made a mental checklist. So far he had been ripped from his home town, planet, and as far as he knew, universe, been transformed into something, been told it was up to him to stop some invisible evil something, and was now in a T.V. show about to be trained by fictional characters.

Goody.

He floated about in Tyrael's wake through corridors and passages, with the Z-Fighters in his wake. He assumed they were headed for the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, which frightened him very much. He knew from the show that this was _not_ going to be fun. Extra gravity, a plane of nothingness, it sounded like a blast.

They approached a door, and it opened seamlessly. Had Inrandel control over his lungs he would have been breathing very, very heavily. He was frightened. Inrandel floated inside and was set down facing the empty expanse. Tyrael went in front of him materialized a chair out of nothingness - a high-backed chair - and sat down. He materialized a smaller one for Inrandel, and Inrandel found himself sitting.

"You may ask your questions. You can move your mouth and vocal cords, and can breathe now. I suggest you take a few moments to get used to yourself."

Slowly, Inrandel began to test his breathing. The first few times he almost exploded his chest as he tried to control his now much-stronger chest muscles. After a few moments the instinct took over and he could breath easily. Inrandel stopped to rest. He could hear his own breathing, the rustle of his clothes, the heartbeat sounds of those behind him, the sounds of their own breathing.

Their heartbeats? How can I hear that?

That wasn't all. As he focused on his senses, he slowly became aware of a sixth sense. He could _feel_ the other people in the room. He slowly began to discern their... signatures. If he had been able to spin his head around, he could have identified who belong to which signature. As he focused on each individual frequency, he realized he could feel some of them out there, in the nothingness. It was all very faint, but they were there.

Oh well, in order to get answers, I have to ask questions. Here goes.

He slowly started to work his mouth, careful to get used to his new found body. When he felt comfortable, he tried to speak. His first attempts were horrible, but soon he could get the words out.

His first question was obvious. "Why me?"

"Because you are the strongest being in the known multi-verse, or rather, you have the potential to be. Everyone's power is limited by their potential, it's merely a matter of unlocking it. The Powers managed to unlock a portion of yours, it should be enough to get you started. Your missions and your own training time will get you the rest of the way. Suffice to say, you have the most potential, you could even become the first fifth level Saiyan."

"Fifth level?"

"You are aware of the steps of ascension. Super, Ascended, Transcended, Transformed, Ultimate. You have the potential to reach the fifth level."

"How will I learn?"

"Those eager people behind you will be your guides."

"What about my family, my friends, my life? What happens when this is all over?"

"You can go wherever you like when you're not preoccupied, back to your school if you want, but you don't have to. Everything will be taken care of when your assignment is over, and you will be duly rewarded."

"This doesn't make sense. I was human until a short while ago. I'm not a Saiyan."

"You are. It makes sense. Think about it. You've never been any good in any sport except the martial arts, you always seem hungry for no reason, you could never sleep on your back, and let's talk about your birth. You know how risky it was, what happened during your mothers pregnancy with you. Are you willing to tell me that, despite all of these difficulties, you were still born perfectly healthy?"

"What is this place?"

"One of the verses. Number 3, actually. It's very stable. The higher verses are very unstable. This is a separate universe from the show. Infact, the show is comprised of sub-conscious memories transmitted across the barriers. You see, there are many people who can tap into the multiverses energies, even if they don't know it. What they think is their imagination is actually memories of events that have happened, or can happen. Space-Time is not limited by linear time."

"What other shows are like this?"

"You'll see."

"What do I have to do?"

"Fight."

"Let's get started."

"As is your wish, hero." If a faceless angel could smile, then Tyrael certainly did. "Your movement is now restored. Start with your fingers, then arms, etc. Do not look at yourself until you've had the time to adjust."

In the next 20 minutes, much to the impatience of those behind him, Inrandel learned to move again. Flexing muscles individually, Inrandel kept the spasms to a minimum and gained something like control. Slowly, cautiously, Inrandel stood up, and then walked around. Everyone was watching him closely, attentively. He scanned everyone, getting a fix for their signatures. He could tell that Vegeta, Goku, Piccolo, Gohan, and what felt kind of like Trunks had been in that room before by their lingering presence.

Inrandel next made the mistake of looking at himself. At first he looked at mirror he had walked up to. His face looked more or less the same. Perhaps the bones were more defined. His hair was definitely different. It was jet-black, and was much more closely cropped around the sides, and only seemed to have substance on top of his head, where it was more-or-less a round mass of hair except for two little juts coming out over his forehead, the smaller on top of the larger.

Inrandel looked over his body. He was startled, and could barely believe it was, infact, his body. He was just as tall as he had been, but instead of an overweight Irish kid, he was lean, very lean, and muscular. He was very well defined as far as he could see, very well.

Looking at his clothes, Inrandel was rather shocked. He was wearing a blue, one piece gi, much like those worn by the Z-Fighters. On his left breast was the symbol for his martial arts system, he had no doubt that it would be on his back as well. Underneath his gi was a red shirt, the whole thing was actually very comfortable, and he was sure that it would allow maximum flexibility.

Holding the entire thing together was a black belt tied tightly about his waist. "There's a problem, Tyrael."

"What is it, hero?"

"I'm not a black belt".

The belt turned a funny golden colour, and when it re-emerged it as red with a single black stripe around either end. As Inrandel followed the trace of the belt around his body he noticed perhaps the most startling change. Flicking back and forth, almost automatically, and two feet long, was a tail. Inrandel wasn't surprised by it, however. He knew that Saiyans were born with tails, and he was a Saiyan, but in a way it only added a sense of finality for the poor boy. In every sense, he was no longer in Kansas.


End file.
